


a shower of gold meteors (you're so bright it hurts)

by oathsworn (onelastchence)



Category: League of Legends RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fashion & Models, M/M, one gay photoshoot at a time, they're supermodel boyfriends out to conquer the world
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-21
Updated: 2017-05-21
Packaged: 2018-11-03 07:31:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10962600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onelastchence/pseuds/oathsworn
Summary: Wangho is all heart shaped smiles and fluid movements while Sungu is harsh angles and sharp taunts. Somehow, they work.





	a shower of gold meteors (you're so bright it hurts)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [alphirus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alphirus/gifts).



> Happy Birthday Reiru! \o/ We've come so far from me sneaking into your DMs just because you were another Singaporean who had fallen down this hole that is League pro-gamers. I hope you have a great one, and remember that I'll always big love you~ ♡
> 
> Thank you to my best Rasu nee-san for the beta! ♡

The jingle of keys in the lock jerks Sungu out of his sleep. He rubs the back of his head, sitting up on the couch and yawning, arms stretching up above his head as he twists his body.

The door opens and a tuft of blond hair topping a large, black clad figure steps in through the door. Sungu laughs at how bundled up Wangho is, standing up from the couch and moving towards the door. A suitcase is dragged across the floor before the owner lets go of it and it falls to the ground with a large thud.

“Welcome home, Wangho,” Sungu greets as Wangho collapses into his embrace, whining about the cold and jet lag and how much he had missed rice. “Was Paris fun?”

“If you like being bitched at five hours a day by amateurs,” Wangho grumbles, shrugging his heavy winter coat off with Sungu’s help and kicking his boots off at the same time. “What do they know? They’ve only been in the industry for three months.”

Sungu laughs, kissing his forehead and wrinkling his nose. “Ew,” He says. “Your hair stinks.”

Wangho tilts his head up to glare at him and Sungu grins innocently. “I ran you a bath,” He quickly changes the topic. “When you said you were on the AREX back. It should still be warm. Go relax while I make you food, okay?”

The mention of a warm bath seems to be all that’s needed for Sungu to be forgiven, and Wangho trudges towards the bathroom while making Sungu promise that there would be rice. “I’m so sick of bread. I never want to see another croissant in my life.”

Sungu rolls his eyes when Wangho’s out of his line of sight. He grabs the Tupperware of leftover rice from the fridge and pops it in the microwave to heat it up, grabbing the side dishes that his mother had prepared boxes of when she realized that the two of them would be living alone. “I can’t let you two starve!” She had exclaimed in alarm, stuffing side dish after side dish into Tupperware boxes and shoving them into Sungu’s arms.

He’s grateful for it now, even though he had been rather exasperated when his mother had first piled all the food on him. Grabbing the bowl from the microwave, he arranges the side dishes in a pile on top of the rice and fries a sunny side up egg to top off his makeshift bibimbap.

Wangho emerges from the bathroom then, a cloud of steam billowing behind him. He’s in his favourite fluffy fleece pyjama pants and a simple top, one hand still drying his hair with his towel.

“You made me an egg, too!” He cheers, spotting the dish on the table, rushing towards the chair and starting to shovel rice in his mouth. Sungu sighs fondly and helps him finish drying his hair lest he catch a cold. “You’re the best!” Wangho says, smiling up at him, cheeks bulging with food.

“It’s just an egg,” Sungu replies, amused. “But you’re right, I _am_ the best.”

Wangho has no qualms about rolling his eyes right there and then, and Sungu stabs his fingers into Wangho’s ticklish sides. He makes this squealing noise that he would never admit to making if you asked him and Sungu snorts.

The meal is relatively quiet after that, with Sungu changing from drying Wangho’s hair to combing it for him. The repetitive motion is starting to get him sleepy, Sungu can tell, what with his drooping eyelids and all. “I’ll wash up, you go brush your teeth and go to bed.”

“M’kay,” Wangho agrees, not even putting up a fight where he usually would. Sungu presses a soft kiss to his cheek that’s returned clumsily and starts on the dishes.

By the time the dishes are washed and drying on the dish rack, Wangho’s already asleep, spread out wide on their shared bed like a starfish. Sungu grabs his phone to snap a photo for future blackmail material before climbing into bed, too. It’s not long before Wangho instinctively moves towards Sungu’s warmth and curls up.

“Good night, Wangho,” Sungu whispers, watching him sleep for a while. He smiles, brushing the back of his knuckles gently against Wangho’s cheek. “I missed you.”

He wakes up the next morning when the smell of ramyeon wafts through the apartment. He sits up, looking around blearily for Wangho, who’s nowhere to be found. He stumbles out of bed and into the corridor, seeing the kitchen light on.

“You’re up early,” He says, rubbing his eye with a fist. “The shoot for Weddings today isn’t until nine.”

“I couldn’t sleep,” Wangho replies, walking towards Sungu. “I’m sorry I woke you up. Want to go back to bed?”

Sungu shakes his head and walks towards the couch, lying down on it and curling up. He beams up at Wangho cheekily. “Make me breakfast?”

Wangho pretends to kick him, but relents and nods. He moves over to their cupboards and grabs a second brass pot to fill with water. He puts a lid on it, checking the water every couple of minutes to see if it’s boiled while making sure his own pot doesn’t boil over.

He goes through the motions of making the bowls of ramyeon automatically, already so used to it from the countless times that he’s made it. Sungu pops up from the couch the moment he turns the stove off and speeds towards him, grabbing the pot with a huge grin on his face. “Thanks, Wangho!”

They sit in silence for a while, the only sounds the clanking of their utensils against the pots and them slurping noodles. It’s calm and it’s the two of them, something they haven’t had in the two weeks that Wangho was in Paris for a shoot. They wash up together, this time, standing side by side at the sink. Their arms touch every once in awhile, and it’s a comforting presence that they’ve both missed.

Wangho goes into their room to drag their blanket out, and they curl up on the couch with Wangho’s laptop between them. The world is still asleep, and blanketed in their apartment together, alone, the stillness almost makes it seem as though time’s stopped for them.

They watch silly pop performances, stream games, try to beat the other in minesweeper, all to pass time. Wangho eventually, three hours before nine, falls asleep with his head on Sungu’s shoulder. Sungu smiles, tired himself, and sets an alarm for 90 minutes later, closing his eyes and following Wangho into sleep.

The alarm is jarring, and they both jerk awake, Wangho’s laptop crashing onto the ground. Wangho leans forward to stare at it like it just personally offended him and picks it up, closing it and setting it down on the coffee table. He drags a half-awake Sungu into their bedroom to get changed for the photo shoot.

“The make up artist’s going to kill me,” Wangho bemoans when he looks at his reflection in the mirror. “Look at my dark eye circles.”

Sungu pokes his head out of the bathroom to look at them, gently touching the delicate skin beneath Wangho’s eyes with his thumb. “It’s not your fault that you just flew back from France last night,” He says. “They’ll probably bitch but we both know it’s nothing concealer and Photoshop can’t fix.”

Wangho sighs and nods, shrugging on a jacket over his sweater. He grabs his laptop off the coffee table and stuffs it into his haversack, shuffling the bag between his feet towards the door.

“Are you bringing water?” Wangho yells across the apartment to where Sungu is still fiddling about in their bedroom.

“Yes!” Sungu calls back. “If you want warm water to sip on you’re on your own, though!”

Wangho huffs and goes to fill a Thermos with warm water, internally cursing Sungu and his crazy resistance to the cold. Why was it that he was so weak to it when Sungu could walk around with his coat unzipped?

Sungu makes his way out of their room stuffing a multitude of things into his own haversack. He sets it down between his feet to shrug his coat on, chuckling when Wangho does the same, his thin arms dwarfed by the puffiness of the huge coat he needs to stay warm. “What’s so funny?” Wangho huffs, head tilted up defiantly.

Sungu shakes his head, grabbing his wallet and car keys and stuffing them into his back pocket. “Come on, _princess_ , we need to go or we’ll be late.”

Wangho, in retaliation, slings his bag over his shoulder and hops onto Sungu’s back. “Wha- Wangho?”

“You’re carrying me to the car,” He sniffs primly. “You can’t let a princess walk, can you?”

Rolling his eyes, Sungu slides his bag out the door with his foot so he can move out the door. He locks the door and holds the keys up for Wangho to keep, then picks up his bag with one hand and stabilizes Wangho on his back with the other. “Would you also like me to put your shoes on for you, princess?”

Wangho looks down at his sock clad feet and slides off Sungu’s back to slip on his shoes before immediately hopping back on when Sungu’s done the same. Sungu sighs fondly, walking to the lift and nudging Wangho to press the button.

Sungu somehow makes it to the car without dropping Wangho nor his bag, and he counts that as a small, personal victory. Wangho slides smoothly into the car, poised as always, and Sungu dumps their stuff in the back before getting into the driver’s seat.

The drive is uneventful, with their usual coffee run where Wangho orders something sickeningly sweet for himself and an Americano for Sungu. Wangho sings along to the mainstream pop songs that the radio station plays despite being absolutely tone deaf, but Sungu’s used to this and takes it all in stride.

They arrive at the venue and share a quick kiss in the car before walking into the studio where they are immediately whisked off to hair and makeup. Sungu shares looks with all the staff and they all return his gaze with a smile and a nod. He inhales deeply, nodding and reassuring himself that the shoot would go smoothly.

The next time he sees Wangho, they’re both wearing bespoke suits designed specially for this shoot. Wangho’s hair, like his own, is artfully styled, his bangs falling just above his eyes. The hairstyle, combined with the way they had applied his make up, makes him look a lot younger than the 27 he is.

Wangho walks up to him, and Sungu takes the time to just _look_ at his boyfriend. Slightly smaller in stature than he is, Wangho is all bright eyes and heart shaped smiles, always chosen by stylists who need a younger, cheerful vibe in their shoots. Even now, when they’re shooting for a wedding magazine, Wangho’s suit is all white, accentuating his slim figure. His makeup is light, highlighter on his cheekbones and a dusting of gold eye-shadow on his lids.

He knows Wangho is taking his own look in, dark suit and even darker eyes. Eyes lined with black and bronzer on his already bronze cheeks, he knows he looks older than 27. Sungu’s usually requested when stylists need a darker vibe, someone with a stronger, harsher look.

They don’t have time to say anything to each other before they’re asked to get into position. Their shoot is for a new line of suits, the contrast between black and white a harsh one that was requested by the designer. This is what they’re both used to, staring into the camera and moving naturally, pose after pose.

Wangho is fluid movement and flirty grins, playing with the camera and the audience while Sungu is sharp edges and heated looks, daring the audience to come closer, taunting them.

The shoot is over when the camera’s assistant gives Sungu a subtle nod. There isn’t the usual clapping, thanking for their hard work, so Wangho doesn’t know that, thinks they’re just changing a few settings. He relaxes, huffing and leaning against one of the props, making a silly come hither face at Sungu.

Sungu doesn’t react to this, too busy worrying about how Wangho’ll react. He inhales deeply, telling himself that it’s okay, that the worst case scenario would be that Wangho said no.

Yeah, this calming down thing isn’t working out very well for him.

But he’s been planning this ever since he received the memo that this shoot was going to take place, and he wasn’t going to let all of that go to waste. Plus, he was _positive_ that Wangho wouldn’t actually reject him.

Wangho starts to move towards him in concern and Sungu quickly drops to one knee. Wangho jolts forward, thinking that he’s faint, but Sungu looks up at him, eyes fierce with enough determination to make Wangho stumble backwards.

“Han Wangho,” He starts. “You know I’m not good with words, so I’m not going to make you go through a speech. I love you. Will you marry me?”

Wangho stares at him, mouth slightly open, then looks at the staff around him, who are all silent and watching him with an air of expectation. “Is- Is this part of the shoot?”

Sungu shakes his head, already starting to falter a little. He bites the inside of his cheek, worried. Wangho stares at him for a little while longer, as though in shock, then starts to laugh and tear up a little. “Of course I’ll marry you, you big idiot,” He says in the softest voice he can muster.

Quickly getting onto his feet, Sungu launches himself at Wangho, wrapping his arms around his shoulders and laughing hysterically in relief. “You said yes,” He whispers. Wangho hits him with a clenched fist, laughing and sobbing into his chest. “You said yes,” Sungu repeats to himself, then pulls away. “He said yes!”

The studio erupts in cheers and Sungu laughs, one arm around Wangho’s waist now. He grins widely at how Wangho’s cheeks are flushed a bright pink and moves to kiss him on the forehead, utter adoration shining in his eyes. “You said yes,” He says again, grin so wide it’s almost ridiculous. “ _You said yes._ ”

“Of course I did,” Wangho kicks him lightly, the redness of his blush starting to creep down his neck. “Why else do you think I put up with your snoring?” He huffs. “You didn’t even get me a ring, Kang Sungu. I’m starting to regret saying yes.”

Sungu rolls his eyes, but he’s so, so fond. He takes Wangho’s left with his own and reaches into his pocket with his right, retrieving the ring he had, admittedly, forgotten about in his worry. He slides it onto Wangho’s left ring finger and leans down to press a gentle kiss to it.

When he straightens back up, he can hear the familiar _click_ , see the familiar flash of light from the studio’s lights out of the corner of his eyes. And yet, all he can really see then is Wangho’s bright eyes, pink flushed cheeks and shy smile.

“I can’t let my princess down like that, now could I?”

**Author's Note:**

> [Blank](http://upload2.inven.co.kr/upload/2017/03/02/bbs/i16586828315.jpg) is all harsh angles and [Peanut](https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/276261705665871874/315888798812733441/image.jpg) soft edges. ♡


End file.
